


Helping Hands

by cosmogyrals



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyrals/pseuds/cosmogyrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha likes taking care of the Doctor - in more ways than one. Set during Blink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

Martha had discovered that she actually liked taking care of the Doctor. All right, so it was a bit infuriating at times – like when she came home from work and he had the small table covered in gears and springs and all sorts of other things from whatever he’d dismantled that day, and all she wanted to do was eat dinner and maybe watch a bit of telly – but looking after him just felt…right. It had been that way in 1913, and it was like that now. And it was less providing for him and being domestic – because Martha wasn’t exactly domestic – than it was looking after him and making sure he didn’t do anything too stupid, like the time he’d decided that the radio ought to be able to pick up more signals (interplanetary signals, he’d explained later) and had knocked out the power for the entire building, and they’d huddled around a candle in the dark, sharing a can of cold beans.

At any rate, she was beginning to get used to the situation. True, having two people in their tiny flat was awkward, and somehow she’d never noticed quite how well the Doctor managed to take up space when they’d been living in the TARDIS, but now that they were in a flat together, he seemed all gangly arms and legs, sprawling _everywhere_. She was almost glad he hadn’t taken her up on her offer to share the bed – she felt that she would have inevitably wound up on the floor within five minutes. (at the very least, he seemed like the sort to steal the duvet). Of course, half the feeling of not having enough space was the awkward sexual tension that only Martha seemed to sense, and sharing the bed definitely would have heightened that – and it was bad enough as it was.

Martha wished the Doctor wasn’t so _oblivious_ to everything – and he had to be oblivious, because nobody could actually _ignore_ the awkwardness of their situation. All the accidental touches and the glances that had followed, the times they’d nearly walked in on each other in varying states of undress, the Doctor’s irritating tendency to lick everything imaginable…well, it was certainly beginning to drive _her_ mad.

She’d gone out to the clubs a few times with some of the girls at work, just to get out and away from the Doctor – not necessarily to pick anybody up, because she wasn’t really that sort of person, but she wouldn’t have said no if it’d happened. But it never did, and she always returned home at the end of the night, a bit tipsy from a few pints and a little crestfallen, her eyes inevitably drawn to the Doctor’s prone form on the sofa. She’d wonder, in her inebriated state, what would happen if she just…took things into her own hands. But she never did.

***

Martha unlocked the door to their flat, juggling two baskets of piping hot fish and chips; she’d just gotten paid, and she thought they both deserved a bit of a treat. The Doctor seemed inordinately fond of chips – he made the most interesting sounds while he was eating them, and maybe it was a bit perverted of her, but she liked watching him.

“Doctor,” she caroled, slipping inside, “I’ve got fish and chips and – “ She stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the Doctor, who was staring wide-eyed back at her, his hair in mad disarray. Her eyes traveled slowly down the length of his body to his shorts, where he had his hands covering – or trying to cover – what seemed to be a sizable erection poking out of the fly, and had she really just walked on him having one off?

Martha wasn’t entirely certain _what_ to do – though setting the food down seemed to be a good place to start, as it was beginning to burn her hands. “Um.” She tried to avert her eyes as she set the fish and chips down on the counter. “I’ll just go, ah, wash up before dinner, yeah?” Though she wasn’t sure what _that_ would accomplish.

As she crossed the room, she felt his gaze on her, his eyes still dark with lust and unfocused – he must have been close to finishing when she’d interrupted him. She worried her lower lip between her teeth for a brief moment, torn with indecision, then changed her path to sit down next to him on the sofa.

 _And what if he was thinking of Rose?_ the insidious voice in her head whispered – but, Martha thought, what did that matter when Rose was an entire universe away, and she was here and real and entirely willing?

The Doctor swallowed as he turned to face her, his Adam’s apple bobbing, looking completely bewildered. “Martha?” he asked, his voice high-pitched and squeaky. “I thought you were going to go wash up.”

It was, she decided, either now or never. She leaned in and kissed him soundly, running her fingers through his hair, her other hand cupping his jaw and pulling him close.

He blinked as she pulled away, still looking surprised. Martha was gratified to see his erection hadn’t flagged, and that he was no longer trying to cover it. “D’you think I could watch?” she asked hesitantly. Oh, God, she wanted to do so much more than just watch, but she had to start somewhere. She reached up and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, licking her lips as she held the Doctor’s gaze.

The Doctor looked dubious for a moment, but eventually wrapped his long fingers around his cock again, tipping his head back slightly as he stroked himself, a look of intense concentration on his face. His breath came faster and more ragged as he caressed the head with his thumb, squeezing his length slightly. Martha watched with wide-eyed interest and open arousal, her own breathing heavy and a little uneven, until she decided she couldn’t hold back any longer.

She reached out tentatively, pulling his hand free and replacing it with her own. Even in his aroused state, his skin was still cool to the touch, firm and hard beneath her fingers. She caressed his cock experimentally, feeling it jerk as she traced the veins with her fingertips.

“Martha…” The Doctor’s voice was low and husky now, her name nearly a moan on his lips. He popped the rest of the buttons of her blouse open with trembling fingers, pulling it off with surprising deftness. As she stroked him, he bent his head, feathering kisses along her collarbone, then the top of her breasts, slipping his fingers inside her bra to toy with her nipples.

She inhaled sharply as he caressed her breasts, faltering for a moment. Martha desperately wanted to do more, but she wasn’t sure how the Doctor would react – on the other hand, there was no time like the present to find out. She pulled away again, shimmying out of her skirt and pulling her knickers down boldly. The Doctor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stared at her.

“Oh, Martha, you’re lovely,” he whispered reverently, running his fingers along her thighs, parting them gently.

She responded by kissing him again, pushing him back against the sofa with the force of her kiss, sliding her hands up underneath his shirt to play her fingers along the lines of his ribs. “Doctor,” she murmured against his lips, “I need you.” To make her point clear, she shifted onto his lap, straddling his thighs, and took his cock in her hand again, rubbing it against herself.

He gasped, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. “God, yes,” he urged her.

Martha moaned as she slid down onto him, letting her head fall back. He felt so _good_ inside her – cool and hard and thick, and if she moved just a bit, he hit her right _there_ , and that was enough to undo her entirely. She rolled her hips, panting as she moved up and down on him with wild abandon. All rational thought had left her; all she could focus on was the Doctor, and how he felt, and what he was doing with his hands, which were just as skilled as she’d hoped.

She buried her face in his shoulder as her orgasm overtook her, crying out against his skin as she contracted around him, shuddering hard. Martha clung to him for a few moments, still panting heavily; the Doctor kept thrusting up into her, his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut from concentration, shouting hoarsely as he came.

They stayed there on the couch awhile longer, Martha’s head resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She listened to his heartbeats pounding in his chest and couldn’t help but feel a little self-satisfied. Suddenly, she realised the Doctor was talking. “Hm?” she asked, a little drowsily.

“I said, the chips are probably cold now,” the Doctor said, sounding a little affronted.

Oh, right, _those_ chips. He _would_ be concerned about them. “Don’t worry,” she murmured lazily. “I’ll buy you more tomorrow.” And he’d probably eat them anyway, despite the fact that cold chips were a little disgusting.

“All right.” He ran his fingers through her hair, lapsing into silence again. “Martha?” he said finally. “Um…thank you.”

The corners of her lips quirked up into a smile. “Any time, Doctor.”


End file.
